Music To My Ears
by himawarixxsandz
Summary: The explanation/summary/thing is inside.
1. Sexy Can I by Ray J feat Yung Berg

_A/N: I thought that instead of continuously starting a new story every time I have a songfic for KuroFai, I thought I'd just compile them into one big work. These ones are just the old ones, so yeah. But I do have a few new ones coming up since there are SO VERY MANY songs for this pairing. And some of them are going to be AU, like, there'll be songfics that have to do with their relationship in my AU fics like Secrets and Intrigue and stuff like that. And not all of the pairings will be KuroFai, like there'll be some (only if you've read Secrets, you'll get this) MioruxKurogane, and AshuraxYuuixFai....stuff like that, y'know? And I'm saying there MIGHT be. Because...y'know....I'm pretty lazy. 0_0_

* * *

The first time Fai saw Kurogane, the mage only ever thought two things:

Ill-tempered. Child.

Yes, Kuro-chii was an amusing child, but nonetheless, he could no more grasp the horrors that reality threw out than Sakura and the clone could.

At least, not the true horrors.

But even though Kuro-puu was still a child—a very innocent one, from the way he acted at the slightest of suggestions—he was a slightly nice-looking child. Especially his hair. Fai found himself thinking, as the sun shone through the skyscrapers of the Hanshin Republic, how difficult was it for Kuro-pipi to make it just so like that. The dark, inky strands stood straight up at some places, and yet fell down leniently at others.

Fai confirmed it to himself.

Kuro-chibi's hair was definitely his sexiest feature.

* * *

Kurogane (attempted to) work on the roof of the damn, little girl's house. Why was he fixing it of all people? It wasn't as if this was his fault. But it did give him a good reason to march up to that castle and kick that fat bastard's ass black and blue. The ninja glanced down, only to find Fai watching his pitiful hammering avidly.

No, Fai was not "lazying around" as Kuro-bun had put it. The mage was very much busy. With what? Why, he was busy observing Kuro-chan's bare arms and shoulders.

Now, Fai knew that you couldn't always be right—even about your own inferences and observations—but it was rare that Fai had to contradict himself. But he supposed this time, he would simply have to.

Tanned, somehow flawless, and rippling over wiry, muscled perfection.

Kuro-momo's skin just had to be his sexiest feature.

* * *

Kurogane glared at people a lot.

Fai noticed this.

Well, no. Fai noticed the eyes he used to glare at everyone with. It seemed ironic to the mage that his eyes were red, of all colors. Red was usually associated with anger and violence, wasn't it?

But if Fai was correct, red could also be associated with pride and justice.

As Kuro-hyuu glared watchfully at his surroundings and at Syaoran as the boy fell into Jade's snowy ground headfirst, Fai watched Kuro-hyuu. The mage sadly smiled in his mind. He was wrong, yet again.

Blood red, crimson, and smoldering.

Kuro-wan's eyes were apparently his sexiest feature.

* * *

There was never a need for it before, but in Outo, Fai and Kuro-woof actually had reason to discuss things other than the mage's impending doom at the hand of the ninja.

Discussing usually involves conversation, and conversation usually involves using that thing people call a voice.

Not only that, in Outo, Kurogane found that he had to shout more than usual—what with training the kid, keeping the manjuu bun away, and threatening the mage.

Fai found out that this might be the first time he had to correct himself so many times in succession. His feral grin was hidden behind a bright smile as he closed his eyes and listened to Kuro-puppy shouting at Mokona for landing on his forehead yet again.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again, right?

Raw, rough, deep, and just the sound you want to hear scream your name in lust.

Kuro-ruff's voice must be his sexiest feature.

* * *

Even drunk, Fai could think clearly—more or less. He had just finished his thirty-eighth bottle of sake, and he thought it might be time to stop. Fai tossed the bottle aside and heard it roll until it hit the wall. Instead of picking up another bottle, he occupied himself in watching Kuro-guppy drink.

Fai's sapphire eyes widened at the sight of the liquid moving from the bottleneck into his mouth through way of Kuro-yummy's lips. The ninja's tongue flashed out to clean his lips of any residual alcohol, as he tossed the empty bottle aside.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at his audience. Fai merely shrugged and smiled. Kurogane rolled his eyes.

When the leader of the shrine came to escort them to breakfast, Fai sighed—though it was a somewhat happy sigh.

The mage knew that even though Kuro-sun used it to say some things that Fai really would rather not hear…

Sultry, firm, but full and begging to be kissed.

Hands down, Kuro-birdie's mouth was his sexiest feature.

* * *

A new world.

No kids.

No manjuu bun.

One gibberish-speaking mage.

Why did Kurogane get the small feeling that he should ask the gods to take him now?

Fai was intelligent. And he knew it. He was pretty sure that Kuro-fish knew it, too. So even though he couldn't speak nor understand the language, he didn't need words to know the way the other soldiers considered him.

Yes, they thought he was an excellent warrior and were shit-scared of him, but that wasn't the only thing they thought he'd be excellent at.

Kuro-furry might dearly miss the kids and Mokona—or perhaps just Mokona and its world-traveling and translating abilities—but Fai couldn't care less. It would be nice to move on to another world, but for the first time since Fai had met Kuro-wanko, the mage was actually happy to admit that he was wrong.

Wrong about two things.

One: Even though compared to Fai's age, Kuro-kiki was a child, in physicality, the ninja was very, very much a man.

And second: Any feature of Kuro-chii's Fai had thought was the sexiest before, was utterly insignificant to the feature Fai learned about in _great detail_ during their time in Yama.

Kuro-hunny's sex simply had to be his sexiest feature.

* * *

After all the time and discovery Fai had with Kuro-sama in Yama, Fai started to stop noticing specific things about Kuro-sama, and started to take note of himself.

As Fai passed Kuro-sama, dozing on a couch, Fai's arm accidentally brushed against the ninja's shoulder. Fai smiled, remembering how Kuro-sama's features had entranced him one by one, until he was completely besotted.

The windowpane was behind the couch, and Fai watched with amusment, Syaoran attempting to teach Sakura how to fly the vehicle in time for the Piffle race. But before he could turn away, something else caught his eye.

His reflection.

He'd never realized how different his appearance was from Kuro-sama's. Like his hair, for one. Instead of determinedly standing in one position, Fai's hair flipped and flopped and floated at random directions—never holding its ground.

Fai touched the soft, blonde locks bitterly, and smiled.

His skin was a sharp contrast, as well, Fai thought as he saw his hand near Kuro-sama's cheek. Kuro-sama's skin was warm, always looking as though the sun had just hugged him with its rays. Fai's skin would never look like that. It stubbornly went unchanging, forever flawless, but cold and white—like ice.

Their eyes were so different it frightened Fai. And not only the color, even though Kuro-sama's smoldering blood red was a ways off from Fai's deceiving sapphire.

Fai turned toward he window again, hearing Sakura's laughs and Syaoran chuckling with her. Such innocent voices. Unlike the way Kuro-sama's own voice had whispered to him last night. Fai grinned to himself at the memory. If only his voice could be like that—gruff and deep, but so blunt and truthful. Not the best sort of voice for conniving and convincing, but better than Fai's voice. The voice of an angel—but told enough lies to assure Fai's place in hell.

He heard Sakura call his name and automatically smiled through the window glass. That way, he could see his smile in the reflection.

Never before had he wanted to throw up so badly.

His smile repulsed him. He'd give anything to be able to use his mouth like Kuro-sama did. To be able to form the harsh truth, and at the same time, kiss Fai so gently it was like kissing a breeze.

The thought of kissing caused Fai's pants to tighten in a certain area. He shook his head wryly to himself as he looked down. Of course, he hadn't forgotten about how different they were during sex. How could he? It was blatantly obvious.

Kuro-sama could somehow have rough sex and give it off as gentle simultaneously. All Fai could do was allow the ninja to lead.

And as Kuro-sama woke up, Fai thought of only one thing:

_He's beautiful. And I'm hideous._

* * *

"What's wrong?"

The roughly spoken words snapped Fai out of his reverie. He jolted and glanced up at the one-armed ninja before him. Fai didn't answer; he simply lowered his eyes.

Kurogane felt his patience ticking already. "What's wrong?"

"I'd say nothing, but Kuro-sama wouldn't believe me," Fai smiled. "And doesn't Kuro-sama think it's a bit hypocritical to ask me what's wrong when Kuro-sama nearly died yesterday?" A slender, white hand came to rest where Kurogane's left arm once was.

"No. Now answer the question."

"I was merely thinking, Kuro-sama."

"About what?"

Fai slid nearer to the ninja, hand still where the lost arm used to be. "Old thoughts. Thoughts I've entertained for quite a while now."

"Yeah. That really clears things up." Kurogane's voice dripped with sarcasm as Fai curiously fingered a lock of the ninja's dark hair.

"It does, doesn't it? You should be interested," Fai continued indifferently, "They _are_ about you."

The mage hid a smile as he felt Kurogane tense. "What about me?"

"They say that love is more than skin deep, and of course even a liar like myself knows that," the mage said, sighing with a smile. "But really, Kuro-sama, I don't know how great my personality is, but how could you love someone so hideous? Kuro-sama could do so much better with his looks."

Kurogane was staring at him through squinted slits of red. "Did the manjuu bun drop you on the head when we got to my world? You need to get your eyes checked, mage."

Fai raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "I don't know what's considered ugly in your world, mage, but I know what's considered ugly in mine, and you aren't it."

"Compared to Kuro-sama, I'm grotesque," Fai said loftily, his fangs only inches away from Kurogane's neck.

Fai thought that Kurogane would reply with yet another argument, and pull away from Fai's teeth. Instead, the ninja simply proceeded in showing Fai exactly what he thought of the mage's body and reminding Fai about which of Kurogane's features were the sexiest.

Fai didn't think he'd ever be able to choose.

And as the last piece of clothing between them flew to the floor, Fai knew Kurogane didn't have a sexiest feature.

The ninja was simply too sexy for his own good.


	2. Seven Things by Miley Cyrus

Good morning, Kurogane.

You look quite shocked. Is something wrong? I've finally called you by your full name, and this is how you show your appreciation? Ordering for me to stay put and throwing my cloak at me?

What is it? Are you letting me know that you actually liked those nicknames?

That isn't good, Kurogane. You're supposed to hate them. And I thought you did.

But I guess I should expect it. You've always been like this. Even after someone has just gone through the worst pain in their life, all you do is walk away and call them an idiot.

Even though you're right.

I am an idiot. But so are you, Kurogane.

I hate you. I've always hated you. And now I hate you more than ever.

Do you want to know why I hate you, Kurogane? Do you want to know all the things I hate about you? They're going through my head, right now.

I hate how indifferent you can be about everything—like now, like how you're comforting "Syaoran" even though you know absolutely nothing about him and what he's been through.

I hate how you're telling me that believing in someone isn't a crime—as though Sakura isn't going to get killed without our help.

I hate how you've just saved my life, even though you know I didn't want you to, even though you knew it would put the children in danger—it shows how selfish you really are.

I hate how you're eyes are always dissecting me, peeling my mask off again and again—you're making this harder than it needs to be, Kurogane. I can deal with things myself, and I've done fine before I was harassed by your so-called "intuition".

I hate how you expect sex to mean more than just release—how you stop me from leaving after we're done, grabbing my arm harshly and pulling me back into the bed.

I hate how you took control of my life after saving it—drinking your blood is nothing but repulsive and disgusting.

But most of all, more than any of these,

I hate how you make me love you.

How? How could you, a child, have possibly done it? How could nothing more than an ill-tempered, violent _child_ have done what countless men and women—more desirable than the last—couldn't?

How could a child do something even _Ashura_ couldn't?

How is it possible that a child could cause my eyes to see him as a man? You're taller than me, Kurogane, but even you've acknowledged that compared to me, you're as much of a child as Sakura and Syaoran are.

Why are you doing that, Kurogane? Why is your sword piercing the arm its been wielded by for so long? Why are you grabbing my collar? Where are we? Why am I crying?

Why can't you hate me?

But I guess that's just it. For the first time in more than a century, I'm smiling. I'm smiling because I feel like smiling. I'm laughing quietly because I can't resist. I know laughing and smiling are the last things I should be doing while I wait for Tomoyo to finish talking to you, but I can't help it.

I've listed everything I hate about you. And all that I listed really is what it is—everything.

But if I listed what I liked about you?

I'd be thinking for a very long time.

Although, narrowing things down isn't hard.

Your eyes. I like how they can pierce through the firewalls I've set up around my heart—how they not only pull off the mask, but burn it and assure that I never need use of it again.

I like how you can believe in someone with total and utter faith—just like you did with Sakura and Syaoran…and maybe even me.

I like how you saved my worthless life even though you knew I'd hate you; along with causing me to consider how perhaps it has some worth after all.

The only thing repulsive and disgusting about your blood is that I'm the one taking it. I like how it feels on my tongue, how your skin feels on my lips.

You'll never have no idea how much I like the fact that you expect sex to mean more than just release—how much I like it when you gently convince me to stay even after the deed is done.

I like how you don't judge people by their pasts—how you judge them by who they are and what they do. Just like you judge me.

And, as my fist collides with your jaw, and you stumble back with the largest grin on your face, I know that what I like the most is how you make me love you.

This is payback, Kuro-sama.


	3. How Do I Breathe? by Mario

It's different. Not being with you.

Or maybe it just feels that way…maybe I was just so used to being with you—maybe I liked it too much. More than I should. More than someone like me should be allowed to like anything.

I can't believe this. I'm still reeling from the fact that you…an insignificant blip in my life…you became the one thing that irrevocably changed my life. And even after you aren't in it anymore, my life is still changed.

Speaking of exiting my life…

I stare at you as you usher Syaoran back into his room, insisting stubbornly that he get some sleep. I rub a hand over my eyes—wait, no—eye. Why did I let it get this far?

I'd gone in too deep—had too much faith in my oxygen tank—and then I foolishly punctured it. And now I had to face the consequences: I'm drowning.

It wasn't this hard before. Getting over Ashura…over the fact that ours was a forbidden love, and he probably never loved me in the first place. It wasn't that difficult. Painful, but doable, and definitely possible.

This?

Huh. Like I said, I was drowning and in over my head.

* * *

"Fai-san?"

Something cold poked me hesitantly in the shoulder.

I glanced up with a jolt, and found myself staring into Sakura's concerned eyes. "Did you get hurt in that?" she asked. "That team was rather rough…"

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm fine." I returned my gaze to the glass of water—not that I intended to drink it. The pattern of the tablecloth beneath the translucent glass and liquid were splotches of abstract red. A grouping of twin red splotches seemed a bit more…circular than I'd remembered. It almost looked like they were eyes…staring up at me…honest and gruff and—

I was delusional. That was all.

I was losing my mind—not that I wasn't already insane.

"You made a mistake."

"Hm, Princess?" I gave a slight smile—not as bright as my old ones, but not as fake either. "What was it you said?"

"You made a mistake," she repeated sadly.

"Yes…my fighting was off today, wasn't it…" I trailed off. And I had. Not exactly in the same context, but I had made a mistake. I'd thought that he'd be mine.

Guess the joke was on me.

Vampires weren't supposed to need much—if any—sleep. But I was restless. I had to keep moving, keep busy, else I would find myself thinking of him—missing him. Wanting to see him, even if I saw him every cursed day.

Where was his mind these days? He went out by himself a lot…not even taking Syaoran or Mokona…had he found someone else in this strange world called Infinity?

This couldn't be happening.

"You need to wake up, Fai-san," Sakura sighed, her eyes wise and hardened beyond the air headed innocent she'd used to be.

"I'm always perfectly awake. But I am sorry I haven't been listening very closely—I've just been a bit out of it today," I apologized.

And it was true. I was out of it. I was out of it—and too busy wishing that I hadn't let him fall. The regret intensified each day, and today it was off the charts.

He wasn't to blame for any of it, though. I was the one who'd pushed him away.

There was only so much a person could take before ending their own misery and walking away.

I should have been there to stop him.

"Maybe you should stop listening to me, and start listening to yourself."

I flinched, and looked straight at her. "What do you mean, Princess?"

"You're not getting over him any time soon. So you should simply save yourself the self-loathing and self-pity and hold on to him." She smiled. "You aren't the only one who's persistent."

"What—"

She silenced me with a nod towards the doorway.

"Hey." The deep voice rumbled, the lights casting his long shadow longer.

My head flew back to its original position and I stared determinedly at the table, at the glass in my hands—anything but him.

I didn't want to let him go, I mentally cried as he took the seat across from me, and Sakura left daintily. I wanted him to come home—come back to me. I was drowning, choking, suffocating without him. He made it impossible to breathe—to find anything worth breathing for. There wasn't any purpose to do that tiny act of inhaling if he wasn't with me.

"What do you want?" I stated.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm asking the same thing."

Hm. So Kurogane was being considerate today. What a surprise.

What do I want? You wanted to know what I want, Kurogane?

Tell me.

How was I supposed to go on living without you? How could I go on living knowing that if you were with me, we'd both be on a road heading for tragedy—a kind people hadn't seen since Romeo and Juliet. Only, I was no Juliet, and you certainly weren't a Romeo.

But I had more questions—questions that passed over the knowledge that I shouldn't be with you completely. How would I see?

You were the one who allowed the light to even come close to my unworthy eyes.

Where would I go? How would I rest when your heart was the only place mine would quiet on?

Kurogane, if you're not with me…

How would I breathe?


	4. Face Down by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

I know.

But I don't understand. Why do you stay with me? I can see you. I can see everything underneath. If I'm in your place, I would have left long ago—or maybe I wouldn't have. I am _the_ masochist, after all.

You cover it up with your usual gruffness—rough but comforting at the same time. I know…I know every time you look at them in the mirror you swear to yourself it won't happen again. But it does.

I wish you'd stop deluding yourself. I don't love you.

I just don't.

* * *

Kurogane knocked on my door. "Hey. You. Mage."

I didn't move from my position on the bed, spread-eagle, eyes on the ceiling and determinedly not on his face. I neither acknowledged him nor was I ignoring him. He was just there and I was just here.

End of story.

At least, that was what I was telling myself for now—until I came up with a new lie to tell myself. Maybe some nice, pretty story about how I wasn't a vampire, Kurogane wasn't my prey, Syaoran wasn't a clone, and Sakura hadn't had her heart hardened into a rock.

Even the king of liars wouldn't be able to get around that one.

I would know.

"Mage."

I sighed.

"Mage?"

I draped my arm over my eyes.

"OY, Mage!"

Faster than his eye could follow, I was face-to-face with him in an instant. His shirt was fisted in my hand, back against the now closed door. "What?" I whispered. "What could you possibly want me to do now?" My voice contained no emotion—no semblance of sanity. "You have no idea what it's like to be a pawn for your entire life, to have a set of neat, little schedule that you have to obey because if you don't, you won't have a life at all. And now, when I was nearly freed of that rulebook, you just had to give me a whole different one."

The garnet spheres stared steadily back at me. Kurogane didn't fight or struggle; his body was as lenient as a piece of string. "I'm not feeding. Not again. I've fed enough this week, and I won't have you shove me face down again."

He still didn't comment, didn't respond. His lack of response was the thing that bothered me most of all. It was like nothing I ever did fazed him, yet every single thing he did…his voice, his gaze…all of it more than stirred my forbidden desire.

To state it simply, it was utterly unfair.

I threw him at the ground with all the strength that had been increased tenfold during my turning. His hands flew out to brace himself, but not fast enough—a ninja was no match for a vampire, even if as strong as Kurogane.

Still, he made no sound as he straightened into a sitting position, one knee propping up his arm. Even when he looked up at me, and I gauged his expression, it remained colorless.

I was so furious, so beside myself…I didn't care. I knew what I was about to do had major consequences, but what he'd done already had its consequences and worst of all, most of them were dumped on me.

He proved me wrong again and again, but I was right this time. I had to be. He just…I couldn't do this any more. It had to stop.

And so I raged. I raged, kicking him and punching him…throwing him against the furniture, beating him into the wall. He took all of it silently and indifferently. He didn't even leak a sound.

That simply made me angrier.

I beat him until I had no more energy left, until the walls had Kurogane-shaped dents holed into them, until his blood was splattered on the floor and my clothes. I beat him until I couldn't hold it in any longer—until I collapsed into a small ball, crying and defeated.

Sobbing, I lapped the blood from my hands hungrily. Disgusting. I was disgusting and pathetic and wretched and evil.

Kurogane grunted as he struggled to sit up, leaning heavily against the bedpost. "Done?" he asked quietly. "Feel better? Well…when you do, you know where to find me. You should drink before the wounds close over."

He touched me hesitantly on the crown of my head, before limping back across the hall to his own room, leaving the door open.

I covered my eyes with my saliva-slicked hands. Even though I was the one who was always being bullied by destiny, Kurogane was the one who'd just been pushed face down.


	5. Crush by David Archuleta

I've gone mad.

I have.

You know you've gone mad when a manjuu bun tells you something and you actually believe it.

Because for one, manjuu buns shouldn't talk. And if they did, anything spouting and spewing out of their mouths, is nothing but nonsense.

So you know that you've gone insane and out of your mind when the nonsense seems to be making sense.

"LISTEN YOU," I growled, fisting the manjuu's ears, and holding it up to face level. "Tomorrow, I have to fucking visit some fucking person I don't fucking know to get some fucking information about the fucking oni, so I won't kill you if you let me get some fucking sleep."

"Kurogane really likes to fuck, doesn't he?" the manjuu squealed happily.

My roar of frustration was cut midway, when a white hand appeared beneath my fist, rescuing the manjuu from being steamed, like a proper manjuu bun should be.

"That's not very wise of you, Kuro-rinta," a soft voice said. I found myself staring into the fakest smile I'd seen—fake and familiar. The mage tugged the manjuu free and allowed the meat bun to step onto his shoulder. I hardly noticed my prey escaping. My eyes were glued to my still suspended hand. It would still have been curled into a fist, were it not for the shock of some buzzing going on where the mage's skin had brushed mine.

Idiot probably did some involuntary magic crap.

The mage raised his eyebrows, tilting his head. "Something wrong, Kuro-pup?"

I growled. "Get out, I need to get some sleep." I turned around and headed for my bed without even assuring that the mage did indeed get the hell out. I hoped like hell that the idiot really had gone out—listening to me for once—so I wouldn't have to look at him again. No. Not really him, more like his eyes.

I didn't know why, but recently, even though I knew those sapphires were only beautiful with lies,

I still found them beautiful.

I shut my eyes closed as tight as I could, blindly putting on my sleeping clothes.

Beautiful. Even when I wasn't around Tomoyo, her pretty-ass-girly words were still echoing around in my head.

Or maybe it was the mage's pretty-ass-girly words. He definitely said them more insistently that Tomoyo.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing away the coming migraine, and slammed my head onto the pillow. Eyes still shut, I switched off the lights before opening my eyes.

Had I not been a ninja, trained for secrecy and silent swiftness, I would have probably fallen out of my bed screaming.

Large oval eyes were staring right at me, and the damned, fucking manjuu bun was sitting on my chest.

I thought he'd left with the mage.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" I hissed, brushing him off me and onto the table.

"Mokona has something to tell Kurogane!" it chirped in a whisper. Hell, that was odd. Usually the thing would go screaming the first chance it got.

I scowled, sighing. "Look, pork bun, I think you've told me enough to last me eternity. Go to sleep."

"Kurogane hasn't been able to sleep very well lately, has he?" the meat bun giggled hysterically.

So. Now, I had a meat bun stalker, did I?

I chose to ignore it, but since when has that ever stopped it? "Does Kurogane want to know _why_ he hasn't been able to sleep well lately? Normally, Kurogane is the one sleeping like a dead rock."

"How can a rock be dead, stupid manjuu bun?"

"Kurogane wants to know, doesn't he?" it squealed quietly. "He does, he does, he does!" it sang. "Mokona will tell Kurogane now."

I rolled my eyes in the darkness and waited.

"Kurogane has a crush on Fai."

"No shit, General Obvious. Any sane person would want to crush the mage just to shut his antics up."

The manjuu pouted and bounced unhappily on my chest. "No, silly. Not crush—_a_ crush."

"Is that some sort of weapon? A tactic to kill the mage? I'm open to ideas," I said sarcastically, rolling onto my side to sleep. This wasn't like me. When I went to sleep, I picked a position and remained it for the rest of the night.

The pork bun burst into a stream of giggles. "Kurogane doesn't know what a crush is! He's so naïve. Has Kurogane really never had a crush? A crush is when you like someone! A lot. Maybe even love them!"

"You should get some medication, manjuu. I think the princess has dropped you on your head a few too many times."

It plowed obliviously on. "You get a rush whenever you hear their voice. And you never stop thinking about them!"

"Manjuu, you—" I paused. "Hell, what?"

The bun seemed to be carrying on a monologue. "And you want them to look at you, and you want them to like when you look at them, and you wonder if they have a crush on you, and you start to like every little bit about them! And you get tingly when they touch you, and you can't stop looking into their eyes and—"

My hand was over its mouth. "You. Go to sleep. Now. And not in this room."

The manjuu pouted again, but skipped away obediently—probably since it'd finished its purpose.

Once I heard the door click closed, I sat bolt upright and ran a hand over my face.

Shit.

_Shit._

No matter what the manjuu said, even if "crush" wasn't the word I'd used in Nihon, I had had them. Bothersome little things they were.

I'd had a "crush" on Tomoyo. You know, puppy love and all that crap. She was the one who saved me, how I not have had a "crush" on her. But I got over it after finding out 1) how much younger she was than me and 2) how she disapproved of my killing sprees.

I'd had a "crush" on Souma. The kind of admiration you had to an older woman, _because_ she was older than you. It was sort of during adolescence, so I probably only liked her for her body. But I got over that after finding out how goodie-two-shoes she was.

I'd even had a "crush" on Ameterasu. I didn't have any idea why, though. Most likely I'd been imagining that I'd be the emperor if I'd married her. So…it wasn't really a "crush".

Sure, I'd liked them all, but I definitely didn't love them.

And I'd never had any involuntary reactions to them. I'd always appreciate how hot they'd looked whenever I saw them, and shit like that, but that was all. I'd never felt anything I didn't want to feel.

But…the mage.

Shit. I pressed a fist to my forehead. "Shit," I muttered.

No. I didn't…have a "crush" on the idiot mage. I would NOT love a liar, a deceiver. If he lied all the time, how would I know if he lied to me or not? Well…I'd know since it was obvious…but how were you supposed to love someone who lied all the time?

Okay. Now I sounded like a lovesick, romance novel.

This bullshit would end now.

I was just tired—that was all. I'd only imagined the tingling when his skin brushed mine, I'd only imagined wanting nothing more than to stare into his eyes—that were completely ordinary besides the lying—for eternity.

And I definitely had only imagined that manjuu bun could be right.

But it was.

It was.

The blasted, accursed, fucking manjuu bun was right. Dead on, right.

I had a crush on the mage. I had a fucking crush on the fucking mage.

And I hated it.

* * *

"Because I've been waiting, too," he murmured. "Waiting for someone who can take me away, but stay by my side."

Rush. Dizzying. A longing to give him just what he wanted—everything he wanted. I hated it.

He turned to face the bartender, forearm brushing against mine.

Tingling. Shuddering. A want to assure that his skin never leaves mine. I hated it.

How come I kept running from the truth? As much as I despised the fact that _he_, of all people, was the only one ever occupying my thoughts, I didn't want to admit that I liked it.

Why did I have to love a liar?

* * *

"Kuro-rin looks upset tonight," he observed, leaning against my doorway with the usual, deceiving smile.

I tossed the clothes necessary for slumbering onto my bed. "Get out."

His footsteps padded softly closer. "Why?"

I didn't respond, scowling heavier to myself. "Tomoyo-chan is nice," he went on quietly. "I see why Kuro-chan wants to return to her so much. She and Sakura-chan have really taken to each other."

I'd turned around at this point, but I hadn't heard a single thing he'd said. All I could do was stare at his face. His eyes. His mouth. His neck.

"She's just as energetic as the one in my world," I grumbled for the sake of the conversation.

"Is she now? Kuro-sama really likes Tomoyo-chan, doesn't he?"

By this point, I no longer questioned the fact that I was hypnotized and mesmerized by everything he did—from his past, to the way he hid it, to the stifled sobs I heard at night, to his fake smile, to…everything.

Now, all I questioned was if he felt the same way.

I doubted it.

But I still questioned it over and over.

Did he ever think when he was all alone, all that we could be? Where any of this insanity could go? I knew I was either crazy or…or falling in love—the manjuu was really getting to me. Was this just another "crush"? Would I get over it as I had with the others?

Did his breath catch when I looked at him? Was he holding back as hard and with as much difficulty as I was?

I'd tried. I really had. I'd tried countless times to walk away.

But this crush wasn't going away.

Shit.


	6. Hot 'n Cold by Katy Perry

Hot 'n Cold

To say the least, Kurogane was extremely fed up. To say it in his terms, he was pretty fucking pissed off. Now, no matter what some people might think, Kurogane was a shockingly patient person. At least, that was what he advertised when Tomoyo and Amaterasu commiserated on how awful his temper was. Kurogane liked to think that he was a patient person—he just didn't put up with any BS. He was patient, see…just not with people who spouted endless amounts of crap.

People…kind of like…well…the mage.

Actually, no. People _exactly_ like the mage.

At first sight on Kurogane and Fai's interactions, someone might think that the reason Kurogane was so fucking pissed off was because of Fai's never-ending, unrelenting, onslaught of antics day and night for as long as they've known each other and were thrown together. But that wasn't true. Or rather, that wasn't precisely true.

It was just that…Fai was a bit…fickle. Or perhaps, not fickle…fickle would be an understatement. Fai was a person who changed his mind so many times, so quickly, so rapidly and deftly that Kurogane was getting whiplash. Maybe deep in his own heart, Fai's decision was set…and Kurogane could see that…could break the mask and see what his heart wanted…but he was powerless to do anything other than react to what Fai actually did on the outside.

And the changes of mind…the switch of directions…of needs…the mood swings that Fai orchestrated in order to infuriate Kurogane and at the same time keep him away…reminded Kurogane greatly of how irritable the three women waiting for him in Nihon were like when they'd gotten their monthly bill—y'know.

Not to say that Fai was so girly it wouldn't surprise Kurogane if the mage got PMS, too. Although, y'know, that would pose as quite a hefty problem, because of what Kurogane might possibly perhaps maybe perchance would want to do to Fai.

But of course, that wasn't even the worst of it. Fai's tongue could also do back flips and cartwheels and numerous other acrobats that made Kurogane dizzy—and no, he did not know this because he'd made-out with the mage, because who in their right mind would? He knew this because of the fact that every time the mage opened his damned mouth, the crap-o-meter would rise higher and higher until Kurogane had to replace it with another one, and at the moment, Fai had about five filled and was working on his sixth.

Kurogane's mind knew very clearly—all too clearly—that were Fai not…well…Fai…if this had been any other person, Kurogane would've stopped giving a shit long, long, long before the point he was at with Fai now.

It was just a single, humongous circle.

* * *

The country had four seasons, just like Nihon. And lucky them, they were able to arrive just as the largest blizzard the damn fucking place had seen in years came about. The snow had shut down most work areas and schools, meaning they weren't able to rent an apartment that had actual heating and walls with insulation.

Syaoran was poking idly at the fire, and reading a map of the neighborhood, while Sakura and Mokona were taking a bath together with the hottest water they could come up with. Which left the one bedroom to Kurogane and Fai. Kurogane had intended to simply focus on staying warm, and ignoring the mage.

But of course, since when did Kurogane's intentions ever matter to Fai?

The mage's long, slender arms snaked over Kurogane's shoulders and down his chest. Kurogane flinched at how cold they were. The frigidity of the mage's hands went right through his gloves and through Kurogane's shirt. "You're fucking freezing," Kurogane growled. "Fuck off me."

"All the time, Kuro-pii," Fai's voice slipped into Kurogane's ear.

Kurogane shoved him off and winced visibly. "I didn't need to know that, mage. I don't even believe you, anyway. Just…stop talking."

"I'm cold," Fai sang, collapsing onto the threadbare mattress Kurogane was sitting on.

Kurogane continued to sulk silently and blocked all sound from his ears. He also attempted to block the sense of the mage a little too close to his body. And the fact that he himself was fucking cold, too, of course.

"I'm cold, Kuro-sama. Aren't you going to do anything about it?"

"No."

"Why not?" Fai took on a nonchalant face, and interlacing his fingers, stretched his arms up and shrugged. "It probably doesn't matter to you, anyway, you know, if I die of frostbite and Sakura and Syaoran are traumatized by the sight of my blue corpse, and Mokona endlessly pelts you with chocolate candies…"

"ALL RIGHT, FINE!" Kurogane yanked the back of Fai's shirt, letting the mage fall across the ninja's lap. "There, HAPPY?"

"I only meant if you could hand over your cloak, Kuro-tan," Fai said, with a slight laugh. He stretched out again one of his arms and let the other reach up to touch the side of Kurogane's jaw. "But this is nice, too."

Kurogane wouldn't say that it was nice per se, but for some reason, only having Fai on his lap did make his entire body—the entire room—seem far warmer, for one odd scientifically bullshit reason or another. The newly discovered warmth was just beginning to seep through Kurogane and lull him into a state where he wasn't completely agitated when Fai suddenly jumped up and across the room to the door.

"God, what NOW?" Kurogane scowled, standing up and beginning to walk toward Fai.

"It's a little hot in here, wouldn't you say, Kuro-puu?" Fai waved his hand in front of his face, fanning himself. "I'll just go now. Sakura and Moko-chan are probably done with their bath and I think Sakura forgot her clothes."

"It's effing snowing outside, and there's no heater, how can—"

But Fai had already gone.

* * *

Whenever Kurogane was near enough to break through the mask completely…Fai would say no, even though the mage's clear blue eyes said, yes, yes, please yes—his eyes would beg Kurogane and plead to the ninja that Fai wanted it more than anything, but his mouth would always say no.

Whenever they had sex, during the actual deed, during the act of heat and passion…when they were hounding each other like instinctive wild animals—wild beasts—in the bed, on the floor, on a chair, against a wall…anywhere…no matter how hot it'd been…no matter how great the high…or how rough the physical…Fai would be up and out. So apparently, the mage was in for sex, and out for it to actually mean anything.

It was like Fai wanted Kurogane, and at the same time he didn't. Kurogane eventually found out—through Syaoran's all-nighters, which were getting more and more frequent, and Kurogane was finding himself playing "Daddy" whether he liked it or not by carrying the boy to his room or putting a blanket over him; well he couldn't let the kid freeze, right?—that there was actually a term for Fai's crap.

So now, the mage wasn't just annoying and irritating and insane and mental. He was also bipolar. Syaoran had told Kurogane that he was pretty sure Fai-san wasn't bipolar, as that was actually a mental illness and there was nothing (seriously) wrong with the mage's head.

Kurogane had begged to differ. Immensely.

Really, they should hire a doctor at the rate Fai's bipolarity was going. Kurogane could easily compare these unrelenting series of charades with that speeding dragon that teenagers and children and even some crazy adults rode for fun in that one world…it was called…a "coaster"…? Well, whatever it was, it'd made Kurogane puke, and he was damn glad to hell that he'd gotten off. One day, that thing would eat those who rode it and Kurogane would only be sad that he hadn't been able to tell them that he'd told them so.

But this roller coaster, the roller coaster called Fai. Yeah, Kurogane was pretty sure it was very easy—all too easy—to get off of it. It was quick, sure, but it was fragile and Kurogane could break it and jump off so easily. 'Sides, it changed pace and direction and destination so frequently that it'd soon break on its own accord anyway.

If so…then why was Kurogane still on it? And furthermore, why was he trying his damnedest to keep it together even if the stupid thing was jerking him around left and right, up and down, in and out, around and around?

When Fai was hot, Kurogane would shade him. When the mage was cold, Kurogane would warm him. When Fai said yes, Kurogane would bark and heel. When Fai said no, Kurogane would conveniently disappear. If Fai was in, Kurogane would welcome him with open arms. When Fai went out, Kurogane would let him go. When Fai was up, Kurogane would follow. When Fai went down, Kurogane would catch him.

Fai would brush him off, give him the cold shoulder, ignore him, cast only disdainful glances toward him, and Kurogane would simply allow it. They'd grow apart, they'd be alone. And whenever Fai was ready, he'd kiss the ninja, apologize, welcome him back, beg for him to come back, and Kurogane would just return straight away.

No, Kurogane wasn't a masochist.

He was just in love.

But then again, wasn't that the same thing?

* * *

_A/N: Yep, so that's Hot 'n Cold by Katy Perry. When I first heard it, I immediately thought it'd be from Fai's POV, about Kuro-tan always confusing him, but really, it's got to be the other way around. I mean, "PMS like a bitch"? That's so Fai. Um. No offense to him, or anything, just y'know. Lol. _

_Ah. Poor Kuro-sama. _

_Reviews._


	7. Say Goodbye by Chris Brown

Good morning, Kuro—

Just, good morning, I suppose, is all I can handle right now. Sorry. So, good morning. It doesn't seem like there's anything that's good or going to be good about it, though, does it? But, it's still a nice saying. It's like a fresh start—something to start the end of one blackness and begin whatever comes forward, comes toward you. Whatever you have to face.

Like what I have to face now.

"Good morning". That's usually used as a greeting, right? Whether to greet someone you're waking up with, waking up to, or whether you're simply greeting the morning—thanking the sun for coming up once more. Most people just take the day for granted. They don't know how terrible that is. What if one day the sun doesn't rise because it feels unappreciated? You see? Just awful.

But, as much as I love mornings—really early mornings, when no one else is awake and it's just me and the sunrise—I'm not here for a greeting. I can't welcome this day, I can't even welcome you.

I'm here for something else.

I'm here for a goodbye.

And even though it's cliché, and you probably won't even believe me when I say this, but I have to start out like this: I love you.

I love you. See? You don't believe me, do you? You don't have to. In fact, I think I'd be shocked if you had, seeing as what I've done to you. I bet you didn't even think a liar as blatant and unapologetic as me would even be capable of love. And besides, even if I can, who would ever love me? Most people believe that their lover is like their good luck charm—that their lover inspires them to do better, to give their life a brighter outlook.

Well, as you might say it, that type of bullshit doesn't apply to me at all. I'm the opposite. I know you're not the kind of person that wants sunshine and daisies and gentle love-making all night long on a heart-shaped bed with a pink and white gauze canopy, but I do know that you're not a masochist, and that you aren't going to want someone whose a good fuck the first night, and costs you your life the second night.

What? No. I don't believe that anyone could love me for my personality or character or anymore of that rubbish. Look at me. I'm white, I'm skinny, I'm blond, and I've got blue eyes. You can find a fairy like me on the streets—take him in, clean him up, stuff him in some nice clothes and you've got yourself another pretty thing to play with. An exact replica.

Without my magic, without these new vampire skills, there really isn't anything that's worth your time, effort, life, blood or love. Nothing at all. Myself alone as a person…nothing. I've got nothing to offer at all.

Don't worry. This won't take long. And you'd do damn sure not to give me that face. I don't want to see you looking like anything else other than some smug prick that thinks he can take on the world—or worlds—because that's exactly what you are. You're going to get out of this hellhole situation, and you're going to screw every bastard to his death, and then you're going to make it home and forget about me.

You'll have a beautiful wife, and you'll stay under Tomoyo's care forever, and you'll have plenty of adoring children, and even more grandchildren, and they'll all love you. They'll all love you like I never can. They'll be your family, and they'll give you a life and a future. I can't.

I want to. But since when has something I wanted ever actually come true?

Look at this. Look how pathetic this is. I look like I'm going to cry, don't I? I don't know why this is so hard…don't get me wrong…you're probably the only person who's ever gone this far for me…done this much…and even without that…there's nothing about you that someone wouldn't love. Men and women in your country must have thrown themselves at your feet.

And yet…you want me.

You chose me.

And I'm going to crush everything with just one word—one phrase. But, you know, there's never a right time to say goodbye. Never. Not one when someone dies, not when someone moves away, not even when someone hurts you and they leave. Never ever. Of course, there are poets and writers that say that goodbyes are bittersweet. But anyone who thinks that there's anything romantic about saying a goodbye must either be daft, or they've never had yet to say goodbye themselves. Or had anyone say goodbye to them.

You know…when I was younger…a child…I used to wonder why in some novels men and women wrote about characters who left the ones they love, and how the ones who left loved the subject more than the ones who stayed. I used to wonder how a the girl who left the prince loved him more than the girl who stayed with him and—even though they went through hard times—became his queen.

Of course, now I don't have to give it another thought.

Leaving someone shows that you love them just as much, if not more than if you choose to stay with them through thick and thin. It might be seem cowardly, and perhaps it is, but leaving them hurts more than having to go through the difficulties of staying together. Both choices are tough, but leaving hurts more, because it separates you. At the least, the girl who remained with the prince…remained with him. They both fought for their love, but they had each other.

The girl that left didn't have him. She couldn't. She didn't want him to have to choose, so she chose for him, and she chose for herself. She left. Perhaps it was because she feared that he wouldn't choose her, had she remained and let him choose. It'll never be known. And she'll never know.

I don't know if it means I truly love you, or if this is the first time I have the…incentive to do something honorable for once…but…I'm still doing it. I'm doing this. I'm sorry. But I have to. For you. You've done so much, done everything, given me everything…

Now it's my turn to do something for you.

But before I do, I just have one last question:

Even though I'm saying good morning, why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye?


	8. You'll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins

Oy, shit, kid, you look like you're about to grab a knife and stab yourself. One emo blond priss is enough for me to handle. I don't need another one, kid. C'mon, shut up and drink. The world isn't about to collapse on your fucking goddamn head, all right?

So the princess seems to hate your guts, so the fucking mage seems to hate both our guts. So fucking what? Is that really all? I don't care if you couldn't stop the fucking clone. I don't care if you think that were you stronger, you might've been able to prevent all of this.

C'mon, kid, don't you effing dare cry, you hear me? Take a drink. Y'know, for someone that looks like he should be in preschool, you're pretty strong. Don't bullshit me about how you couldn't do any crap for the princess or the mage or me or even the clone. You did your fucking best, and whose damn fault is it that it wasn't enough? Sure as hell wasn't yours.

Well, at least now you don't look like you're about to burst into a sobbing mess of shit. No offense, or anything. I know it takes just as much crap to cry as it does not to cry, but…people who make you cry aren't worth crying over, kid.

They just aren't.

It might feel like they're damn worth crying over and that the world's ending, but, kid, something you should know about the world ending, is that when something ends, something else has to begin. Anything that follows an ending is a beginning. That's one thing that'll never change, and that's something you can always count on.

I won't say that I'll always be your bestest pal ever and hug you every time your sad—'cause I sure as hell won't—and I'm not your loyal dog, come to stand by you no matter if you make decisions that'll fuck up your life. But I'll say that for the time being, anybody that fucks with you will have to fuck with me, too.

The princess and the mage…kid, they're messed up. I've got to hand it to them. I've never seen two people more fucked up fuck things up even more for themselves. And I bet you anything they expect us to put them back together and forgive them for all the crap they've shot at us because they think they're doing it for our own good.

And kid, I know that you know as well as I do that they couldn't be more wrong. I also know that you're going to forgive her straightaway. I sure as hell won't be forgiving the mage—even though he's got to do some forgiving, too, as much as I do. But y'know, just keep in mind that any girl—any person—who fucks around with you has to expect to be fucked around with in return.

Just like you can't kill without expecting to be killed yourself. It goes just the same, and that's how things will always work. She's expecting, kid, so don't be afraid because she seems like some fragile little angel. She's fragile, but she's no angel.

Things could be worse, kid, but they could get better, too. Let's just hope they don't go any further down than they already are. Any lower and I just might have to knock my fist up the mage's ass to get his brains working. But not in the way you think. And no, it's not fisting. Goddamn it.

Just…kid…listen…here, I don't know about the mage, and I don't know about the princess, and I'll be damned if I ever know about the manjuu bun, but I do know about you and I do know about me. You're good, kid. You're strong. When the mage comes 'round—and when I stuff some sense into him, possibly by stuffing him into a wall—he'll have your back just as much as I've got it.

But, kid, we won't always be there—I won't always be there for you. There're some things you'll have to face all on your own. I'm not saying it'll be easy, because it'll be about as fun as hell. But you've got to do it sometime. You have to face the world sometime. And you've got to be ready.

Kid, don't ask me. I've got no shittin' clue when you'll be ready. I just know it sure as hell ain't right now.

But you will be. And when you are--

Fuck 'em all.

* * *

_A/N: You'll Be In My Heart--the version I like best is the one by Teddy Geiger. But of course the original is uncomparable. I've always liked Tarzan the best out of all the Disney movies, except for Mulan maybe. ASIAN PRIDE! Lol. Anyhoo, it's clear that Kurogane would never be one to say things like the lyrics (or even the title) to Syaoran, but something like this that went with the concept of the song reminded me of their relationship so well. It's like a best friend/father and son/brother relationship all into one. _

_Reviews....._


	9. I'm a Flirt by R Kelly

Kurogane used to think that the definition of a flirt was self-explanatory considering the term, and he'd pretty much seen all types of flirts back in Nihon—from ones that he'd had to become comrades with in the ninja barracks, to the really pesky ones that also happened to be nobility and seemed to especially love flirting with Tomoyo and Amaterasu.

And Kurogane also knew that flirts weren't just men who loved pestering and bothering and being all up into women's faces, it could also mean a man who loved doing the same with another man—but, you know, that just wasn't Kurogane's cup of tea, so he didn't really care about the flirts who batted for that team.

But when Kurogane met Fai, his definition of a flirt expanded, enlarged, grew, contracted, stretched until were Kurogane to write the definition down and all the possible ways of mutating the term, he would've had himself a Bible-sized list.

Fai wasn't a flirt—or rather, not just a flirt in the traditional sense, whether with men or women. He was a flirt with men and women. And children. And adolescents. And somehow pets. And even more somehow with plants. And everything else, really.

Even though the inanimate-object-flirting was strictly for worlds with abnormalities concerning how inanimate objects should behave, Fai took the regular flirting—men and women—to a whole other level. Fai didn't seem to care who the person was; to him, apparently, as long as it had a face, a body, and a voice, it was a suitable candidate for flirting.

But don't get Kurogane wrong—it wasn't like he cared what the demented mage did in his spare time. He was just afraid it would set a bad influence for the kid and his Princess. Really, it was bad enough that the mage flirted with ever human—and otherwise, at times—being in sight, but did he have to flirt with the children, too?

* * *

Fai floated around the room, landing on his back on the sofa, with his head millimeters away from Sakura's lap. Syaoran, who sat opposite her, turned bright red, and his eyes widened—possibly even wider than Sakura's herself. Kurogane kept his eyes on his book, and ignored how the manjuu bun was bouncing on the windowsill besides.

"Sakura-chan," Kurogane heard Fai say in a sigh, "Are you tired? Did you sleep soundly?"

"I…suppose. Yes." Kurogane turned in time to see the Princess blink twice, and then looked down nervously at Fai's immaculate face. The mage smiled broadly, but the smile disappeared quickly enough for him to retain his exhausted demeanor. "Did you, Fai-san?"

"Tragically, I didn't." Fai grinned discreetly to Kurogane and then pouted back to Sakura. "Kuro-tan kept me up all. Night. Long."

Syaoran turned an even brighter red and this time Sakura accompanied him. She blinked in another flurry and determinedly seemed to be avoiding Syaoran's glance, which was all very dandy as he was doing the same. Kurogane stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. "We didn't even sleep in the same fucking room, idiot!"

Fai raised his eyebrows as best he could from his position. "I didn't know you had to be in the same room to disturb someone from their sleep—isn't usually done in separate rooms with one person making noises too loud in one and keeping the other from sweet unconsciousness? What sort of late night activity did you think I meant, Kuro-chii?"

Kurogane could only stand there with his mouth furiously left open.

Fai cleared his throat happily and continued to look up at Sakura. "Luckily for me, you're kind enough to let me rest on your lap like this." He glanced at Syaoran with wide, innocent, daring eyes. "You don't mind, right, Syaoran-kun?"

"Why would I—no, Fai-san—you—why—" Syaoran stammered.

"It's just," Fai interrupted, "I would hate to be imposing on your Sakura-chan, what with her nice, soft lap and the beautiful view from down here." Fai winked at Sakura, who seemed to shrink into half her size.

"That's enough, goddamn it," Kurogane growled. He went to stand beside the couch, glaring at Fai from an overhead view. "You know, there's a name for what you do to the fucking poor kid and the fucking sorrier Princess. It's called sexual harassment, moron, and where I come from you can get arrested if it's done to someone under a certain age."

Fai stared for about a minute and a half before bursting out into laughter. He sat up, removing his head from Sakura's lap and then stood to face Kurogane eye-to-eye—or at least as best as was possible considering their height differences. "Really, Kuro-tan?" Fai laughed. "Because where I come from, and where you come from too, I'm sure, that there's a better name for what I'm doing. It's called flirting. And even though you haven't the finesse for it, not everyone is."

"I _have_ fucking flirted." Kurogane crossed his arms with a huff. "Just because I don't flirt with everything that moves—and some things that don't—doesn't mean I haven't flirted or don't know how to, damn it."

Fai looked greatly amused, now. "Is that so? Then how about we flirt now, Kuro-pii? Syaoran-kun and Sakura-chan have to start and learn from somewhere, don't they? And they're just at the right age to take a course in it, too. How about we give them a little show, hm?"

Before Kurogane could respond (and knock the disturbed mage upside the head and then give him an even better, firmer whack right on the back of his noggin to knock him out for a good few hours—possibly until dinner but just in time for it as Kurogane didn't fancy starving), Fai had shimmied right up against the ninja and had placed one hand squarely on his chest. The mage looked up from beneath the long, nearly translucent lashes. "You didn't really keep me up last night, you know. But tonight you can."

Kurogane made a sort of choking noise that sounded like a gargled and partially muffled "GAH", right after he'd shoved Fai away, and took out his sword, pointing it right at the mage—even though the weapon was still sheathed.

Fai threw his head back and laughed, ruffling his own pale hair, and shrugging. "I can't even remember anyone rejecting my advances." He lowered his eyelids at Kurogane in false demure. "But then again, there's a first time for everything, isn't there? Who knows, chase might be more fun than instant results."

Kurogane could only scowl, since his voice seemed to have betrayed him, along with his wits and sense of self-preservation. But he didn't put the sword down until Fai had resumed his position on the sofa with his blond head in Sakura's lap.

* * *

It wasn't like Fai's flirting was terrifying or anything. And like he'd said before, Kurogane really, really, REALLY didn't give a crap about how Fai interacted with others in his spare time. Really. Honestly. It wasn't any of Kurogane's business, anyway.

But still. All the same. Sometimes, Kurogane wished Fai wasn't such a flirt.

At least, not when it concerned anyone other than the ninja himself.

* * *

_A/N: Geez, Fai. You're such a flirt. _

_Reviews. Lol._


	10. Keeps Gettin Better

Keeps Gettin' Better

She's out of control. Completely uncontrollable, and utterly volatile. She does what she wants, and doesn't have any care whether you're able to handle it or not—if you can, that's fantastic; if you can't, suck it down anyhow. That's how she worked. It doesn't matter to her if her presence is welcome or unwelcome or even completely ignored. She does what she wanted to do, and there was no stopping her.

And somehow, she blinks her long dark lashes, and you forgive her for all the grief she caused. She pouts her full, painted lips and you suddenly realize that knowing her has taught you far more than the harm you believed she caused. All the stress and misfortune you think she causes you is just that—it's only in your mind, because really, she takes rein of your life and angles it in directions that aim only for the win.

I watch her everyday, and for her customers, she's something so totally out there, that they can't comprehend that she's a _who_, and not a _what_. But that's everyone's first opinion of her—she hardly seems human, and in a way, she isn't. She's timeless. She's perfect. You can't ever associate in your mind that she might be able to make something as trivial as a mistake. Because you think, it's impossible. She just can't.

At the same time, she frightens you. Yes, she herself intimidates—because of her presence, and partially because of the way she dresses herself like someone who shouldn't be let out into public. But that isn't why she frightens her customers—frightens me. Frightens everyone. It's because she's the truth. That's what she _is_.

She reveals all of your secrets and unveils all the lies you've ever spun for yourself—and even maybe, _to_ yourself. Having your truth revealed to others is embarrassing in the least, humiliating at most. But having the truth you've hidden against yourself revealed is frightening. Because there's always a reason why you didn't want to face that truth—why you lied to yourself. And now, she can undo all of it and show you who and _what_ you truly are.

That's frightening.

But most times, you don't get to know what it is exactly she's planning to do for you—or to you. You can't know, and you won't know until she decides to let you see because she's so…she doesn't lie…but…she _distracts_ you. Everything she is…she's sex. When you see her every time and anytime—don't lie—that's what comes immediately to your mind. And she knows that. That's what she aims for. She knows humans inside and out, and she knows that sex to humans is what cat bait is to a fresh kitten.

She'll always seem sweet at first. Her voice has always been musical and soothing, and she entrances you into thinking that you're safe—that everything will turn out the way you hope it will. That she's here not to help you, but to make sure it goes happily for you. That everything will be easy and peaceful.

And once you're lulled like a sleepy baby—

She knocks you flat on you're back—into a cave of hungry lions and leaves you to fend for yourself. Sure, she'll come back to pick you up after however she thinks is adequate time. That is, well, if you're alive by then.

And if you are alive, alive and kicking enough to give her your opinion on her methods—which would probably involve an extremely…colorful vocabulary—she'll most likely just shove you out of the ring and into some dark abyss. She doesn't care what you have to say—what anyone has to say, and neither does she want to hear it. She's saved more than one, but that doesn't mean she hasn't played the part of the villain. In fact, sometimes I think she'd rather play the latter. She certainly seems to take more enthusiasm in it.

But that's the weird thing. At least, I think it's extremely strange. Once you meet her…once you know her…once you've talked to her…it's like your universe suddenly, abruptly, and scarily…shifts. It _changes_. Everything seems different, and you seem different. You know you're different. And…then…it's not necessarily all that awful. It's because she herself switches from dark to light so quickly—from Lilith to Gabriel. So rapidly that you blink and she's done.

Some days, she's everything that resides in your nightmares—she's the monster that goes bump in the night, she's the evil stepmother that locks you in a dark cellar. Some days, she'll wave her hand and watch the disastrous events of a perfect-seeming family come undone as the truth destroys them…and she'll smile. She'll glance at me, stroke my cheek, and make me go out into the rain to get her a brand new bottle of wine.

She'll be up to her tricks. But it's always only a matter of time until she reverts. It never lasts forever.

Because then, the very next day, she'll be saving the world again. She'll be your fairy godmother—mysteriously working in and out of your life. She's your guardian angel, always watching over you and making sure whoever harms you will be harmed in return. She'll snap her fingers and the families that warred against each other will become their own ruin, and the two people who they've kept apart will finally have a happy ever after. She'll look at me, and ask me if I need some rest because I look tired, and she doesn't need any more work done.

One moment she makes you want to pull your hair out. The next moment, she makes you love her all over again.

And as eccentric and indescribable as she is…

She'll just keep getting better.

* * *

_A/N: This song just fits Yuuko too much. Especially for those of you who read my Secrets stuff. And I thought that Watanuki would know exactly how well this song describes her, so I made it in his POV. Just vaguely, though._


	11. God Help the Outcasts

**God Help the Outcasts** from the Hunchback of Notre Dame--Bette Midler Version

This world is one of the most normal they've visited. They land in a quiet town, the trees are fluffy and green, and it's clear that if this world has four seasons like Nihon, then it'd be springtime right about now. The houses look like the kind they've seen in past civilian-seeming towns, and they know from experience that the best bet while in a world like this is to rent an apartment and remain inconspicuous—as long as they do that, the civilians in this town won't suspect them, and will most likely even help them.

It isn't long after they got sightseeing, and checking prospective areas where a feather might reside, that Syaoran and Sakura are let off on their own at some ice cream parlor called a Dairy Queen. Kurogane wisely keeps his comments about how a person who names their respective eating establishment something like that would have to be either mentally deranged or Fai D. Fluorite.

The mage seems to be enthralled that there are no fire-breathing bunnies, glowing lizards, or creatures that could otherwise be both scarring to one's mental and physical health. Although, Kurogane is sure that the mage would've been enthralled even if there were fire-breathing bunnies, glowing lizards, and creatures that could be both scarring to one's mental and physical health. Speaking of an example, Kurogane looks over his shoulder and thanks Fate that the manjuu bun is encumbered in the Princess's lap as an unconvincing stuffed toy that just happens to be eating out of her ice cream cup.

The mage and he lead off into a drive way that heads up to what looks like—if it's to go by anything they've seen before in similar worlds—an elementary school. It seems, however, that there are no kids. Perhaps school is out for them? Kurogane thinks that no self-respecting teaching establishment should ever let its children out for activities besides sword training, as anything else would just encourage young minds to run rampant.

The lot where this world's civilians park their steel dragons is also empty. The supposed school building is on one side of the enormous space, and across from it, at the other end, is a building not nearly as big as the school, but considerably huge. The brown roof pyramids up into a sharp isosceles triangle with wide corners. There is a stone arch in front of a small bench and grassed area with flowers. There's also a statue of a man balancing a young boy in one arm, and holding up his free hand as though to wave.

Fai smiles at the statue and glances back at Kurogane, beckoning him to continue following. As if the ninja really had much of a choice. The mage opens one of the doors and the inside is cool and dim—shadowed, a comforting sort of dark.

There is another set of double doors beyond the stretch of gray tiled floor that they first end up in. With one glance around, at the statue and the candles, Kurogane knows that it's a shrine—a temple, and if they don't get out, the priestess will be pissed. He says this, and Fai looks confused for a second, before he laughs. "It's a church, you mean," he smiles. "And the priests probably aren't even here. They'll most likely be at the house we saw besides. People can come in here whenever. As long as there isn't a ceremony occurring."

"How do you know?" Kurogane says suspiciously.

"Well, I picked up a few things while we were looking for apartments," Fai says absentmindedly, looking at the brochures that were neatly arranged on shelves nailed to the walls. "And I do know what a church is and what priests are from my old world. But I don't think they call it a ceremony. I'm not sure what the word for it in this world is." He spots something on the front of a brochure and continues, "Oh. There we go. It's called Mass."

Fai continues to flit around the area, touching the posters and brochures briefly. His eyes canvass the strange metal cylinder labeled "Holy Water", and the bottles in a basket beside it. Kurogane taps his foot impatiently, and waits for another fifteen minutes while Fai continues to float around the room. "Are you going to go inside any time soon?" Kurogane finally cracks, growling. "Because I don't know about this kind of crap, but I'm pretty sure the actual church is in _there_."

"You aren't supposed to curse in church, Kuro-tan," Fai smiles—it's an odd smile. Well, odder than usual, anyway. "It's Lord's house. And I'm perfectly aware where the actual church is."

"So why aren't you going in? You're the one that dragged us all the way to this place, anyway." Kurogane harrumphs and folds his arms, making Fai laugh even more.

Fai shrugs, spinning around lazily in a circle, and then leans against Kurogane's knotted arms for as long as he can, before the ninja realizes the contact and yanks himself away. "Well. You wouldn't want a criminal or a random beggar in _your_ house, would you?"

Kurogane's eyebrows thread together in the middle. He glares at Fai, trying to decipher the insistent smile that the mage is forcing onto him. When minutes pass, and the ninja decides that that's all the mage is going to give for today, he snorts and turns his back on Fai. "Fine. Let's go."

But later that week, at night, right after they'd eaten dinner, but early enough so that Kurogane knows most of the town will still be awake, Kurogane walks to the church, and this time, alone, he goes all the way in.

* * *

The lights were on, but the candles had been blown out. The first thing that immediately stood out and attacked you when you walked in was the huge cross hanging above what I supposed was what I'd call an altar. And on the cross was something that I personally thought shouldn't belong in a place that's supposedly used for worship. Really, what'd they want to do? Scare the little kids away? There was a statue of this guy being hung on it. Like a criminal—like they used to do to people who were convicted back in Nihon, until Tomoyo said it was way too barbaric, or some other shit—I mean, er, yeah.

I knew about God or our world's version of it. How could I not? My princess was a priestess and she made me go to every freaking—okay, how about I just apologize for all the cursing after I leave?—ceremony there was to attend. And the mage had stuffed enough brochures in my face for me to know that over at the school was where the brats that went there learned about how there God was all-forgiving, and all-merciful, and all-patient, and all-loving, and more all-somethings. And how they were His kids, which meant they were all brother and sister, which is a little sick to me if they're going to marry each other.

But whatever. 'S not my religion, 's not my problem.

And in the afternoon, when the mage had dragged my ass into this place, there were at least ten elders kneeling at these wooden benches that spread through the church. So, in one of the brochures, it encouraged you to come in as often as you need or want to "speak" to God. So, did that mean that he'd like talk back? Into your mind or like from the sky, or what?

I got no shit about this. It seemed like utter bullshit.

But, if the brochures were really true, and what the Kid and his Princess had told us they'd learned while they were enrolled at the school, apparently this God didn't care if you'd just murdered a thousand people as long as you were sorry for it. Yeah. No. I really didn't think so. Really, really did not.

'Cause a God like that is either batshit crazy, or not the brightest God-bulb on the tree.

Still…one thing…how did He know if you were really sorry or not?

Well, anyway, I sat down at one of the middle benches—far enough to see the gruesome cross-statue-thing. The man on it was apparently God's son, and at the same time, God himself. Which was confusing, and nonsensical, but hey, not my religion. Still, if I were God's son, I would've staked the humans alive before I got nailed to a cross. I mean, c'mon, this guy made his mother cry just so he could die like _that_. The people he saved didn't even _like_ him.

Why would you save people who hate you?

The mage's face surfaced in my mind. In any other place, I'd immediately try to shake it away, but here, it was perfectly calm, utterly silent, and completely unmoving. I looked up at the cross. Maybe it was about time I had a little talk with this God.

Er…hey…? I blinked at the man on the cross, feeling stupid as crap.

So…I don't really know if you can hear me or anything. You're not really my God, so I don't even know if you're there or not. But…I'm here, so I might as well do it since I don't wanna have to back and face the mage when they find out where I really went. And even if you do exist and all, you don't really have to listen, do you? I mean, you've got no clue who I am, and I really don't have any shit about who you are.

See…there's this…guy—this really annoying, infuriating idiot—that I'm traveling with, and…he says and acts (whenever the brats aren't around) like he's done the worse thing a human (if he even is one) could do. Basically…I guess you could say he thinks he's an outcast. Even in our weird as shit little group, he still thinks he's an outcast—or should be or whatever. And apparently, I guess, to him, being an outcast is a sin—that's the word you guys use, right? But…no offense or anything, you're nailed to the cross in what I guess was considered underwear back in those days. And you didn't do anything wrong. So…aren't you sort of an outcast, too? Maybe?

I don't know what you can do—I've never heard you strike any guy dead with a lightning bolt like some of my gods can do, but I've heard you can do some pretty other kick-ass things. Making the blind see and other crap. And lying's considered bad, right? So…could you maybe try and make the stupid mage stop lying? Or smiling? 'Cause he's annoying the crap out of me. Really, he is.

I know that you're supposed to have made everyone in this world, and maybe even all worlds—I don't know. But whoever made the mage and his world; see, they haven't given him such a great deal on life. They didn't give me such hot stuff either, but I think You—or my gods—liked me a bit more afterward. At least, until Tomoyo sent me on this ridiculous journey.

I'm not asking for anything for me. I'm fine. Well, not fine. I'd like to be home in my country, preferably in my world—wouldn't that be nice—and speaking my own language with the manjuu bun either two universes away from me, or in a steaming pot of chicken broth. But I'm dealing. I know that the mage—and a lot of other brats, like the Kid—who're a lot less lucky. They're missing a whole lot more than I am.

And…I'm not really sure why some of you're "children" in this world can go to a rich and tight school like the one across from here, and why some are barely making it anywhere—like the neighborhoods just out a few blocks. And then, how come the ones you seem to favor fuck around the ones you don't seem to give a crap about all that much?

I'm putting my hands up on this matter, all right? Because I really have no shit at all about what goes on in you're head. I'm just screwing myself around trying to understand. But…the world—worlds—isn't split into good an evil, you know? I don't know the mage's whole story, and I'll be damned if he ever gets information through his thick head and tell me, but I know one thing—whatever he did, whenever and wherever it was, whatever the circumstances, and whoever it involved, I know that he's not a bad guy. I never said he's a good guy, and I'm never going to deny that he's irritating, annoying, infuriating, idiotic, moronic, and immensely psychotic, but he's not a bad guy. He just probably got handed a sack of bullshit for life.

And I don't know if you can, like, ring up the gods of other worlds, but the mage thinks that he's going to Hell. I say he's not, and if you don't call the god of his world up and make sure that the stupid idiot is headed for eternal fucking paradise, then I swear I'll kick your—

Anyway.

I mean, if you were the one who made everyone—even the outcasts, why would you cast them out? 'Cause, seriously, if we're all supposedly your children, no matter how bratty and evil and impudent and disgustingly obnoxious brats are, their parents never leave them—never stop loving them—so you shouldn't either, right?

So, I don't really know what the point of this whole "talk" with you was, but let's leave it at this. If you get my message or whatever, and decide that you're not going to—I dunno—shoot me dead where I stand, drop a rock on my head or something, all right? Just, y'know, make sure it isn't too big.

And whenever you see the mage 'round—which better not be until a long, long, long time to come—go easy on him, got it? Besides, I'm still working on him, and he'll stop lying real soon. Oh, one more thing—does it count as a sin if when I return to Nihon, I chase Tomoyo around a bit whilst waving my sword?

* * *

Kurogane sighs, and closes the double doors behind him, looking up at the pitch-black night sky. As he's walking toward the parking lot, something hard and sharp hits his head and he swears. "What the fuck was that?" He looks around for the perpetrator and finds nothing. He looks at the ground to see what had hit him. And finds nothing.

"Ah, so Kuro-chan is a holy man," a light, airy voice singsongs. Fai is strolling towards him with a wide smile. "Syaoran-kun and Sakura-chan have been wondering why you were gone 'to the store' so long. And now that they're asleep, look at what I found. I didn't know you were so connected with what resides above, Kuro-puu."

"I'm not," Kurogane snorts sarcastically. "I just thought I'd pick a bone with the Big Man for a bit to avoid your evening antics."

"Well, that's odd," Fai said, grinning. "I never recalled you complaining about my _nightly_ antics." Kurogane scowls. "But we'll discuss that when we get home," Fai laughs suggestively. "Tell me about how you're discussion went. Did you manage to get your point across? I've heard that He's a hard one to win over, and you're not the most articulate person, Kuro-chii."

"Shut _up_," Kurogane said, but he grinned, looking up at the sky. "I think we got each other just fine."

* * *

_A/N: I'm not sure about how this turned out, and I suppose since religion's such a touchy subject these days on the internet, I probably shouldn't have put this up, but as I've mentioned before, I'm getting Confirmed this Saturday, so I thought I should write something to commemorate that and I've been listening to this song (Since Disney was the MTV to my six-year-old self) as part of my Disney Reminiscing. It's an amazing song, though. I prefer the Bette Midler version (although I don't like it actually sung by her) because the lyrics elaborate more. _


	12. Memory by Sugarcults

Memory by Sugarcult

I shouldn't take him. I shouldn't have him. I shouldn't accept him. Not even when he was given to me so easily, right on a silver platter for me to take and keep and put away in my pocket, only to let him get destroyed moments later. But I did. And one of the things I'd learned was that you could never rewind your actions—you could regret them until you drove yourself insane, but nothing would change. Nothing productive would come out of it. So instead of wasting time wanting to go backwards, you might as well go forward and try to fix the damage.

And that was what I did. Or what I intended to do. We'd eventually fall apart anyway. What was the point in getting close to him—intimate with him—if it was all going to end up a broken memory anyway? Pointless. Nothing would come out of it, and therefore, nothing should go into it. He should forget about me, before I even become someone worth remembering. I would make him forget—I would irritate him to such a point that he wouldn't even want to remember me.

But it didn't work. It hadn't worked, and it wasn't working now. The more I pushed, the more he pulled. It was endless—and we were both stubborn. Ornery. Defensive. Unwilling to admit defeat. I wanted to go back so badly—so much. Back to a time when it felt like we could've become something—when I'd still been able to pretend we could've _lasted_ together. I'd never been able to feel that way for long. And I knew I'd never be able to.

We weren't falling apart. We were growing closer. Closer and closer, and this wasn't supposed to have happened. We should have drifted farther apart. But that was fine. I could easily fix something like this. If we didn't fall apart, then I'd tear us apart. I'd done it before. It would be simple—so simple. And if I did it quick enough, it might even be painless—just a sharp sting, and then over. I couldn't oppose him—I couldn't even cause him pain, much less become his enemy. So how would I tear us apart? Even if I were to convince myself, that the sharp sting was all I'd feel, I knew that he wouldn't let me ignore how much he'd hurt.

I was losing time. Before I knew it, I wasn't waiting for the right moment to strike—to push us completely apart, and put a stake in between us to keep us at that distance—I was waiting for him to realize what I was planning and steal that stake from me so that I could never leave. I _wanted_ him to stay, and I wanted him to want me to stay. I didn't care if he'd eventually forget me, or if my original intentions were coming undone…I'd be anything to him. As long as I was something, it didn't matter what it was.

And then…everything was traced back to that disaster. I finally did it—the stake went between us, and the walls were erected. All because of that one…mistake. That one occurrence. The spark that ignited the flames—the flames that erupted into a forest fire. I should've let go by then. But I hadn't. I'd been holding on to that period of time—when I was still trying to push him away, dancing away from his touch, and flitting around him so that he couldn't catch me. Even though it was a constantly exhausting game—I treasured every single memory.

Although…two wrongs never made a right, two negatives always equaled a positive. And maybe two disasters were needed to make the first one right. But whatever the cause or reason was, knowing that he was unconscious, knowing I was in his home land…knowing that I would have to face him once and for all…it was tearing at my heart. Yes, he'd severed his arm for me. Yes, he was a man that never regretted anything. But was I a man that would bow my head to that? And if not bow my head, at least…did I want it? Would I have it?

Would I have him?

Even now, I still haven't made the decision. I'm standing outside the door. Waiting. Waiting for when his princess calls me in. If anything, I hope that seeing her for the first time in ages will elate him enough so that he doesn't strike me the first chance he gets. Or give me that look. And…as I'm standing here…thinking…I can't help but remember…that when…that throughout the entire time when I'd still deluded myself into thinking that I could possibly make him forget about me—about us and what we were—I couldn't help but hope…

That even though he should forget about everything we were…

I hoped that I myself would still be a memory.

* * *

_A/N: It's an old song, but it's a good one. 'Sides, it's been stuck in my head for a while. _


	13. All to Myself by Marianas Trench

_A/N: This one's a bit different. It's from my AU Secrets universe, and for those of you who're familiar with it, I hope it's obvious which pairing this is about. If it isn't.....then I clearly need to do some more work. Anyway, for those of you who aren't familiar with Secrets, just enjoy this little couplet poem. (Well, in any case, in my Secrets series, this is the poem from Subaru's point of view--at least during Intrigue and parts of Compelled. I guess I should've expected it, but after really getting into Kamui and Fuuma, I'm starting to get really into Subaru and Seishiro.)_

* * *

**All to Myself by Marianas Trench**

You love me, but you love everyone.

What must I do, until there're others none?

Am I not enough to satisfy you?

Just tell me what I lack; anything I'll do.

You don't believe me? Well, then you should.

I would do for you, what no one else would.

If you told me to jump on nigh,

I would simply ask, "How high?"

Tell me to run, I'll ask, "How far?"

Ask me to leave; I'll get my car.

Kiss me once, and I'll immediately heel when you speak.

You want to screw me into a wall? To the wall I'll press my cheek.

You can't sleep? I'll stay up with you all night.

Tell me to stay; I'll never leave your sight.

But there's still one thing, even for you,

That no matter it all, I'll never let you do.

I won't stand you with anyone else—

I want you—I need you all to myself.


	14. Never Be the Same by Red

**Never Be the Same by Red**

He sits down and leans forward, clasping his hands. His mind is still reeling and he thinks that it won't ever stop reeling. It's been nearly half a year when measured by the time in this world—the world that's now his home world—and he's still unsure of why he hasn't killed himself. Or moreover, why he doesn't want to kill himself. Because by all means and methods, if he knows himself at all—which he hopes he does—then he should've at least _thought_ about killing himself and considering the quickest way to do so.

But he hasn't.

He hasn't, and it's starting to worry him. It sounds a bit silly, and perfectly ridiculous, and he'll be the first to admit, but in summary, he's worried that he hasn't thought at all about suicide. Or rather, he's thought _about_ it, just not _committing_ it. His eyebrows furrow the littlest bit, and he gets up from the bed; he walks to stand in front of the mirror. He looks exactly the same. Exactly the same from when they all started.

There are only two physical differences.

His eyes aren't blue and blue. They're blue and gold.

He isn't smiling. He isn't scowling, or frowning either, but his lips are held in a thoughtful way, neither good nor bad, merely thoughtful. But if he does choose to bring his mouth into a smile, it'll be a nice one—a true one. Meaning, he supposes, that he won't choose to smile. He'll just smile when he chooses.

His eyes and his smiles will never be the same. But those are only the physical aspects. Inside. Inside, there's so much more. So much more that'll never be the same. He doesn't know where to begin, because inside, everything's changed. When he looks into a mirror like this…he can't help but think about a time where mirrors terrified him, because when he looked into one, he could never tell whom it was that looked back at him.

Not now. Not anymore. He smiles at his reflection. He knows the one looking back at him. But he doesn't quite know who he is now. There was a time, when, if he wasn't sure, all he would have to do was look into _that person's_ eyes and he would know. All of a sudden he would know. But that can't happen anymore, can it? _That person_ is gone.

Kurogane is gone.

Kurogane is gone, and Fai remains.

Fai remains, and all the memories, all the promises, everything that happened…it all remains with him. Every bit of Kurogane is still inside every bit of Fai and Fai feels it every single day. He can't _not_ feel it. He isn't quite sure if he'll never be able to love again, but he knows that he'll never be able to love like he loved Kurogane. He knows enough to know that a love like that only comes once in a lifetime. You can only love like that once. And even if Fai learns to love someone else, and someone loves Fai back, when Fai returns to Kurogane…he'll be with Kurogane.

And although Fai can say that he can't _live_ without Kurogane, and he _needs_ Kurogane, and life without Kurogane has no _point_—

He won't. Because if he did, he'd be lying. Fai can live without Kurogane—he already has, and he'll continue to. And even though Fai wants Kurogane, and it feels like he needs him, Fai isn't as weak as he seems. He doesn't truly need Kurogane. And he knows that Kurogane never needed him. You know that you love someone, and that someone loves you back when you know that you're not together out of need—but choice. Fai also knows that life without Kurogane isn't pointless at all. Because if he did indeed think that, then everything Kurogane taught him would've been in vain.

For Fai, loving life is like loving Kurogane. Wasn't that what drew him into the ninja at first? Kurogane was so full of life. And even when the ninja was taken out of life, life was never really taken out of _him_. Kurogane may not be alive, but life never leaves Kurogane. It's exactly because of that that Fai loves life, and he knows—he knew, even before Kurogane—that Fai doesn't need anyone with him to live. Fai's strong, and now, he knows he is. It doesn't mean that Fai doesn't truly love Kurogane any less—because if Fai could make one wish, it would be to have Kurogane back. Even if the world was ending, and Fai could stop it, if that wish could bring Kurogane back, Fai wouldn't care about the world.

But that's not possible. So Fai accepts it. And even if Fai could make himself forget Kurogane easily—a few runes drawn, and Fai would never have known Kurogane—he's not about to. Fai will never forget. He'll never forget the way it felt to have Kurogane beside him. He'll never forget every single thing the ninja ever did for him. He'll never forget how Kurogane loved him.

Still, he's angry. He can't deny that. He can't deny how angry he's been for the past half a year. Kurogane left him here. Kurogane left, and Fai watched the ninja disappear out of his life—out of all life. The mage knows it wasn't the ninja's choice—but Kurogane still left. There were all those promises about how the ninja would never die—Kurogane would never die, and Fai almost believed that. Almost.

Fai's bitterly glad that that "almost" kept until the end. Because no matter how full of life, how young, how promising, how vital anyone is…how unfair it might be for all of that to be snuffed out of them…life isn't fair, and even they'll die. And when it was all taken away from Kurogane, it was all taken away from Fai, too. Wiped empty and clean. And Fai would do anything to be able to turn back time—to turn the hands back and have it all back.

Nothing can ever replace Kurogane and everything he gave to Fai, and everything they made with each other. Fai wanted Kurogane to stay so badly—so, so, _so_ badly. And so much. Even now…half a year…impossible…letting go.

But Fai knows he'll get over it. Painfully, slowly, gradually, excruciatingly…but it's possible. He won't let go of the memories. But he'll let go of the grief. He won't let go of the sadness. But he'll let go of the anger. He couldn't keep Kurogane alive. But he'll keep life in Kurogane. Life will go on, and it'll change as always—it'll be the same.

Even though Fai never will. After loving Kurogane, whether good or bad, Fai'll never be the same. And as he looks up into the mirror for a last time, he smiles gently and thinks that even if he could do it all over again…he wouldn't change a thing. Because even if he can't quite say he likes how everything's turned out, he wouldn't want anything any differently—'cause, y'know, then it wouldn't be the same.

* * *

_A/N: I've been going on a music splurge, and it's only recently that I discovered this amazinglyawesomesuperspectacular band, that's also a Christian band and that clinched it for me. So, I love them, and a lot of their songs fit KuroFai. _


	15. Forever by Red

**Forever by Red**

It was impossible. I always knew it was. The only thing I could ever do was running. Hiding. Running and hiding from whatever it was that chased me wherever I went—unrelenting and unforgiving. Whether it was my own fear, my own loathing, or that of other's—all of which I deserved. A voice in the back of my mind was always asking—always needing for reassurance that I was safe. But it was never enough. I tried. I always tried—tried to forget the past, and shove myself headlong into the future. Only to be held back and hindered by the wounds that I could never mend.

I was just so done fighting. After a point, you just had to give up. You were so tired that you couldn't see the point, nor gather enough energy or control to go on fighting. No more incentive.

Unless of course, you were Kurogane. That was a different matter entirely. Because Kurogane never gave up. He never stopped fighting for a second. Even when he was unconscious, wounded, hurt, seconds away from death…he was still fighting—thrashing, and circling and slamming and thumping and causing the largest ruckus he could possibly cause. He never stopped. Never.

He never stopped at anything. He never gave up on anything. That included me. I knew that. I knew that when he saw what I truly was—or what I truly might be—he would come charging in full gear, as if he was the bull and I was the red cloth. He was break in and shake me until my secrets came rattling out of my brain and right into the palm of his hand. Then, after he knew, he'd toss them back into me and never touch me again.

That was expected, of course. The intrigue of what my past held was there, but the actuality was ugly and horrific. Yes, he wanted to know—he dug and scratched, more or less pleading to know what it was, but humans always wanted what they couldn't have. Once they acquired whatever it was they couldn't have…it depended on what it was to gauge what they'd do with it.

In Kurogane's case, he was merely curious. Curiosity was the only reason he'd wait as patiently as he did. It was the only reason he came and found me when he knew everything was over. It was the only reason he came and looked for me, calling for me when I didn't even want to be found—by anyone, least of all him.

But if curiosity was the only reason, why should I fall for it? Why should I fall into something deep when I was already thigh-high in my own problems? In my own stupidity and fear? My own weaknesses? Why not just ignore him—ignore all of this—and plow along as I'd always done? We'd all die anyway. What was the point?

And so I ignored him. After all, it was impossible.

But it got harder. There were hints—clues—everywhere. Everything always seemed to point to Kurogane. Kurogane seemed everywhere—in everyone. The more I disregarded him—the more I flitted him off whenever he spoke to me, or looked at me, the more he seemed to _try_. It was like he was taunting me. As if he knew that no matter how I searched high and low, I'd never find anything—anyway to stop him. That he'd keep coming.

And it was as if he knew. As if he knew that I wanted him to do so. Even when I knew I shouldn't. I didn't want to want him. I didn't want him to want me. There was no point in hoping. He shouldn't make me hope when he knew it was impossible to deliver what the hope existed for.

So I tried to fight. But by now, it was clear what would always happen whenever I gathered enough resolve to try to fight: I'd always end up turning and running. Nothing I did was every right. Nothing I do ever would be right. And he knew that. He knew, because I always sensed him waiting patiently for the next mistake I'd make—that he knew I'd make. Waiting patiently to hoist me back up onto my feet, even when I kicked and scratched him, begging to just be let down because it wouldn't be much longer until I was.

But he still waited. He waited until I thought I'd have no chance against him. He waited until my defenses were on high security, because there was no way anyone would get inside any more. It was just at that moment—just at the worst, when I was done believing, that was when he broke in. He spun me in, spun me right round, close—so close—close enough for me to feel him. Feel him breathing. Feel him whisper. Feel his heat.

I liked it too much. I almost let myself be caught into him—let myself take in the sunlight that was all Kurogane. Let myself, for _once_, feel alive—truly and honestly and really alive. All of this, everything, everything he ever gave me, and everything I knew he wanted to give me…I deserved none of it. But I could see in his eyes—I could see that he actually thought I was someone who _did_.

I didn't have the nerve to shatter that beautiful belief.

But I had to. Because it was a false belief. So I turned, and I followed the path that would leave Kurogane alone—alone and safe and alive and so perfectly without me. I didn't care if I hurt him because I was afraid. And I always came first—I always came first because I was selfish and cruel. I was selfish and loathsome and useless and worthless. I was awful. And I knew I was awful. Why?

Because Kurogane, despite all that I did to him, he still waited for me to come home—come home to him. And when I finally did want to—but I couldn't—he brought me home. He cut his fucking arm off and brought me—took me—led me home. That was how much he wanted to be with me. How much he thought I was worth. That. Fucking. Much.

I didn't think it was quite impossible anymore. Not quite. But I'd still yet to ask him. The one question that'd permeated my mind this entire time—the question that refused to relent. The question that I was almost afraid to know the answer to. So help me Kurogane, tell me, how can this—all of this, all that you've given me—how can this last forever?

* * *

_A/N: Not nearly as good as I'd have liked it to be. But, it'll have to do. Sorry, again, that I haven't updated Compelled or Impulse yet in such a while. I've been busy with end of the year stuff, and am suffering from slight blockage, which I'm trying to alleviate by splurging on music and yaoi, and it's easing up bit by bit. But seriously, this song, Forever, it's honestly KuroFai's song to a T. Every single word fits them perfectly--they're entire story in almost every situation--whether canon, or fanfic, or AU, or whatever. It fits them. _


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